Tobias POV Erudite HQ
by Loopy1147
Summary: Some one-shots I made of what Tobias may have been thinking when Tris surrendered herself to Erudite. Not very original, I know, but it was fun to do. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think! (No hate, please, but constructive criticism is always appreciated) :)
1. Waking Up

A nightmare. An endless swarm of scenarios after scenario playing on repeat through my head. Scenarios of Tris. Tris going to erudite. Waking up to an empty bed. Tris getting tortured. Tris ending up dead…

My sharp intake of breath is a knife in the silence as I bolt forward, out of sleep, out of Hell. But as my panting dies down, as my eyes adjust to the light, I realize I have sunk into another Hell. A cold, empty hole. A bodiless stain of horror resting on the other side of my bed.

Tris isn't there.

Irrationally, I try to convince myself she could have gotten up to get a drink or something, but I know exactly where she went, where she is.

And I hate myself for succumbing to her promise, her warmth, for falling asleep even though my mind was screaming. Because I knew all along she wouldn't stay. I knew she would try to protect all of us. I knew she would sacrifice herself. But I was so in denial, convinced she couldn't leave me after I told her I wouldn't be okay afterward.

I guess I was wrong.

My palms press to my forehead as I let myself panic. Tris is gone. Tris went to Erudite. Tris is probably dead by now…

That's not right. And even if it is, I won't let myself believe it, won't let the thought in. Something inside of me knows she is still alive. And she will stay that way. If she doesn't, we'll all be lost. I will be lost. Broken.

I _need_ her to survive. For both of us. For all of us.

Forcing myself to my feet, I fill my head with only hopeful thoughts, beautiful memories. Memories of Tris's strength. Her blue flame eyes. Her gold-threaded hair. Her soft, gentle lips.

We've been apart longer than this before, and I've never missed her quite so deeply. I suppose that has something to do with the fact she went to her death, not planning on coming back. I need to feel her warmth soon, before I shatter.

Another thought: She has to escape Erudite. And the only way to get her out is for me to go in.

I need to talk to Evelyn.


	2. The Arrival

_**Hello again, my lovelies! Here's the next one-shot. Be sure to follow, favorite, and/or review! - Loopy**_

"Tobias Eaton. I don't know why it doesn't surprise me to see you here." Jeanine's voice stings almost as much as my guard's attacks. My head throbs; my throat burns.

I look up at her and spit, not willing to humor her by weakly responding. Although it's kind of pointless now, since I came here to die with Tris, as far as Jeanine knows. Though I doubt she buys that.

I was placed here to plan for our attack, or at least that's what I told Evelyn. We were going to send another insider, but I made them speed up the timeframe so I could save Tris.

My mother wasn't particularly thrilled, but she knew how broken I'd be without Tris, whether she liked that or not, and a broken soldier is useless in a war. So she agreed.

"Tobias, I would like to know the location of the factionless safe houses."

A harsh laugh pushes past my cut lips. "You can punch me as much as you'd like. I'm not telling you anything," I snap at her. The smile she gives me sends chills down my spine.

"I figured that much. So I have an idea," she informs me. "Follow me."

My escorts grip my arms with bruising force, leading me down hall after brightened hall, my legs barely carrying me, my back burning every time I bend, until we reach a room.

The first thing I notice is the metal table in front. "What is this?" I demand. And then I see her.

Her skin is paler, her body weaker. The fire in her eyes has been reduced to only a single ember, barely kindled through defeat. There aren't many physical injuries, as far as I can tell, but she looks drained, like she's already given up.

I think it would have hurt me less to see her with bruises instead.

Even so, I can feel her warmth, that beautiful warmth only I am accustomed to, from across the room. "Tris." Just saying her name, hearing it and feeling it push past my lips, gives me strength. I rush toward her only to have my body yanked back, inflaming my aching wounds.

Her eyes lock on mine. "Tris, are you okay?" And even though she says she is, I don't believe her. Judging by the look she gives me when I nod to her, she doesn't believe me either.

We are both broken in different ways: she is mentally shattered while I am physically. Two parts of the same destructive whole. We are one.

"Rather than waste any more time, Mr. Eaton, I thought I would take a more logical approach. Truth serum would be preferable, of course, but it would take days to coerce Jack Kang into handing some over, as it is jealously guarded by the Candor, and I'd rather not waste a few days." I don't really know what Jeanine is talking about until she steps toward Tris with a syringe. My hands ball into fists.

"In a few seconds, I will inject Tris with this liquid. At that point, I trust, your selfless instincts will take over and you will tell me exactly what I need to know."

This is sick. Because of my stubbornness, Jeanine will go to my already dying girlfriend and inject her with something just to get me talk. And she's wearing a smile, like she enjoys torturing other people.

"What does she need to know?" I hear Tris's voice, almost strong, still curious. But I'm afraid if I look at her, my body will take over and I will do something stupid, something that will get her into more trouble. So I keep my eyes locked on Jeanine, watching her every move as I answer Tris.

"Information about the factionless safe houses." The factionless are the only ones big enough to have a large impact in this war right now, and giving Jeanine this information would place a death sentence on their heads if they haven't made it to the Abnegation sector yet. I can't give in.

But I may have to if Tris gets too hurt. Even as I think it, I don't believe Jeanine will try to hurt Tris physically. She's going to want to crush her spirit, the one thing it would kill me to see get destroyed. We'll see how far this goes.

"Don't give it to her. I'm going to die anyway. Don't give her anything." Tris pleads with me, and I want to tell her she's not going to die, I'm going to get her out of this. But I can't say anything with Jeanine in front of us, so she'll have to continue to believe she will die, for now.

"Remind me, Mr. Eaton," Jeanine says. She is only calling me that to connect me to my father, because I hate that. "What do Dauntless simulations do?"

I grit my teeth. She has tortured me, tortured Tris and sentenced her to death, and she can stand there and quiz me like I'm her student, her pupil. "This isn't a classroom. Tell me what you're going to do." Tell me Tris will survive this serum, tell me her death, her suffering won't be my fault. Even though I know it is.

"I will if you answer my very simple question." Jeanine watches me expectantly.

I know it's stupid to refuse to answer when I want her to answer my question. But I don't want to explain it to her like her student in the way I did for the initiates; I don't want to give her that satisfaction. So my eyes move to Tris as I respond. "Fine." My stare intensifies as I draw strength from her remaining fire. "The simulations stimulate the amygdala, which is responsible for processing fear, induce a hallucination based on that fear, and then transmit the data to a computer to be processed and observed."

Jeanine still looks satisfied. "Very good. When I was developing the Dauntless simulations, years ago, we discovered that certain levels of potency overwhelmed the brain and made it too insensible with terror to invent new surroundings, which was when we diluted the solution so that the simulations would be more instructive. But I still remember how to make it."

My stomach drops as she taps the syringe. "Fear is more powerful than pain. So is there anything you'd like to say, before I inject Ms. Prior?"

Tris is strong, has always been, ever since initiation. She can get through this. I have to try to stand it, because that information is vital for our win in the war. But even though Tris is strong, I remember the way she reacted to her first simulation. Still, all I do is squeeze my lips together to stop myself from responding as Jeanine presses the needle to Tris's neck.

My nails dig into my palms from clenching my fists for so long, but all I can do is watch as Tris's breathing starts to come in sharp bursts and she starts screaming.

Like her simulations, her scream is blind terror, and it eats away at me. Her body starts to thrash and her screams come louder and I'm straining against my guards' arms and tears are starting to streak her cheeks, but that pales in comparison when the screams start to take form as words. One word. My name.

Screams of my own pierce through my already burning throat because she's in pain and I'm somehow involved in what she sees and this is my fault and every time my name tears from her mouth, I feel my heart tear with it. She needs help and I can't help her and I want this to end.

"Stop!" I scream at Jeanine now, barely noticing the stinging of the hands on my arms. "Please! Just stop this!"

"Sedative," she says, and another Erudite stabs Tris. Her body starts to calm down until all I can hear are the sobs escaping her mouth. An overwhelming burst of pain and longing and anger comes over me, and I break at the sounds she emits.

"Let me go." My voice sounds worse than it did before, and Tris turns to look at me, blinking through her tears. Even though the serum isn't pulsing through her anymore, I know I have to give Jeanine what she wants if I don't want her to do that to Tris again. "That's the only way I'll tell you, is if you let me go."

The guards release me and I rush toward Tris, wrapping my hand around hers and pressing my forehead to hers. My other hand becomes damp from her tears, but I don't care. I want to keep her with me, want to keep her warmth on my skin, her breaths on my cheek. I don't trust myself to say anything to her, afraid I will let something important slip, and so I just revel in our closeness, dreading the moment I'll have to let go. "The factionless safe houses. Get me a map and I'll mark them for you."

It'll be problematic later on, to have Jeanine know that information, but at the moment I can only think about Tris's safety. I don't want to ever feel that helpless around her again. I don't know if I can take it.

We keep our hands locked as the guards drag me away, our fingers entwined until the last second, when I am wrenched from her fire, her strength.

And even though I am about to give them vital information, I don't regret anything except maybe putting the most important person in my life through that kind of Hell. We'll get through the war with Jeanine knowing the factionless locations, and we'll all be safe. And Tris will be in my arms once again.

It's not a very realistic thing to think, especially with the way things are going right now, but it calms me down. She calms me down. I really hope we can make it through two weeks.


	3. Everything

Exhaustion seeps into my bones and spreads through my body. I'm aching everywhere from my guard's attempt to get me to speak. The only thing I've told them has been the location of the factionless, though that could change soon. They haven't used Tris again, yet.

I'm resting with my back against the windowless wall, sitting on the bed. I may be hurt and my body may be screaming for sleep, but I have never been more awake. I want answers I know I won't get. Still, when my usual guard comes in to escort me to Jeanine—or to make sure I haven't escaped—I ask the question I always ask upon her arrival.

"How's Tris?" I don't put my whole heart into it, mainly because she never answers. So when she does respond with a hint of pity in her voice, my head shoots up.

"Her execution has been rescheduled." She quickly corrects her tone and glares at me, unfeeling.

I spring up from my position, panic numbing the pain from her assaults. I don't even attempt to keep the fear out of my voice. "When?" It's more demanding than normal, and I can see her shock for a brief second before her scowl returns.

"Now." She turns to leave as my heart stops. Tris. _My_ Tris.

I thought maybe I would be able to save her, to rescue her in the process of gathering information, but there is no chance now. It's my fault. If I hadn't come, Jeanine wouldn't be able to kill her. They would need her for experiments. But now she has a replacement.

I am that replacement.

Immediately I sprint to the door and bang on it. "Tris!" I shout, tears threatening to spill.

I rarely cry. I cried for my mother and then vowed to never do it again. But then I met Tris. She changed me.

She made me stronger, happier, lighter. Safer. She gave me something to cry about. She gave me something to love. She made me come to life.

And now she'll never know. I have to tell her, to hold her, to whisper the only advice I can offer. I have to save her. But I can't.

"Tris! I want to see her!" I scream louder now; the tears already burn a trail down my cheeks. I wipe them away furiously. "Tris!" My hand probably hurts from pounding so hard, but I don't notice. Not with the only good thing I've ever had being ripped away from me.

And then, as if by some bizarre miracle, her hand appears, pressed onto the glass. I study it for a second, recomposing myself before daring to look out the window.

There she is. Her golden hair. Her slight yet perfectly strong build. Her stormy eyes which hold more secrets and stories than ever to be discovered. There is also fear hiding behind those stories.

Still breathing shakily, I press my hand against the outline of hers. The lack of her warmth on the glass frustrates me further. She can't leave me. I will break. I love her. My forehead pushes against the cool surface, and my eyes squeeze shut.

My head screams a mantra through my thoughts. I don't know if it is for her or for me, but I try to spread the message to both of us.

 _Be brave._

I can't open my eyes.

 _Be brave._

She won't be there. She never will be there.

 _Be brave._

I inhale sharply, and fall back on the bed, thinking about nothing and everything. Trying not to shatter.

 _Be brave._

But I am a coward.

I stand up, yelling and throwing my fists against the wall. My head throbs and my heart is gone. Tris took it with her.

Tris. Her name forms in my mouth, but I quickly replace it with a frustrated sob. No sense in yelling for the dead.

But she isn't dead. Not to me. Her flame will continue to burn. She will always be in that chasm, staring at me intensely, curiously, learning my past. Becoming a part of my life. Becoming a part of me. My better part.

Gone.

It's not fair. She was a bird with her whole life ahead of her. Yet she was trapped in a society that clipped her wings and warred against her. A war that settled in her mind after the simulation attack.

And that war led to the destruction of my heart, to the destruction of her.

 _Be brave._

I don't know how long I lay on my mattress—it now rests on the floor, partially destroyed—but it feels like years. Time seems to have stopped altogether. It gave up its life when she did. The pain of the past few hours has come to me, making me unable to stand. It almost numbs the memory of Tris. Almost.

I am vaguely aware of the keypad being pressed, of the door sliding open. But when my eyes land on Peter's blurry face, I come out of my painful haze and jump up. it was unwise for him to come here when I am like this, especially since he played a part in the execution. "What do you—" I stop when I notice her.

Her legs are draped over his arm, and her short hair falls in layers towards the tile. Face pale. Eyes open. Tris. Dead.

My heart seems to jump back in my chest at once, but it appears to be incapable of pumping blood. All of the memories spill open, and my pain is raw again. I'm dead, too. She came into my life and changed me. She was the one thing I'd found that I was terrified of losing. And here it is, my worst fear, splaying out in front of me, ebbing my life. I find my voice.

"Oh my God. Oh—" I am cut off by Peter. My horrified gaze remains glued to Tris.

"Spare me your blubbering, okay? She's not dead; she's just paralyzed. It'll only last for about a minute. Now get ready to run."

Slowly, my heart starts to pump again. She's not dead. I'm not dead. We're alive. All of the pain flutters away for this one moment of relief. My love. Alive. But we aren't safe yet.

"Let me carry her," I plead distantly. I need to feel her, to hold her again, to know if all of it is real.

"No. You're a better shot than I am. Take my gun. I'll carry her."

The logical part of my brain understands, so I run my hand briefly over Tris's forehead. Sure enough, the warmth of her life sends the familiar shock through my fingertips. She's alive.

I take the gun from Peter's holster and lead us through Erudite headquarters, listening to Peter's shouted directions, not hesitating to shoot anyone who gets in the way of our escape.

When we reach a room with trash cans lining the walls, Peter drops Tris and shuts the door. I rush over to her.

Crouching down, I press my hand to her cheek. She looks tired and hurt. But she remains strong. She manages a small smile for me. I can tell she still carries the weight of paralysis along with fatigue.

"Tris." My voice sounds scratchy—from screaming probably—and I know I must look terrible. I probably would cry, too, but I'm cried out. I got her back. She would've died. But Peter saved her…? I decide to think about that later.

"Beatrice," she corrects me softly. I laugh at her ability to still have some humor at the most inappropriate times. I almost lost her. I don't know if I can go through that one more time.

"Beatrice," I repeat before pressing my lips to hers, soaking in the warmth that I have longed for for so long. Her fingers twist around my shirt collar, holding me closer. She's like a painkiller, and I am hopelessly addicted. Never in my life have I hated someone as much as I hate Peter in the moment he interrupts us, even though I know he's right.

"Unless you want me to throw up all over you guys, you might want to save it for later." My annoyance soon vanishes when I remember that he saved Tris and is helping us escape. I don't really know how to feel about that, but I suppose it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that Tris is alive.

I don't plan on having her die anytime soon. She is a permanent part of me, even if the inevitability of our death is so high in this war. We will be okay, in the end, because we have each other. And that's all we need.


End file.
